Ellie Ashe - Miranda Vaughn 02 - Dropping the Dime (7 page)

She moved out of the tent and honed in on her target.

Quinn.

Planting herself in his path, she feigned surprise when they ran into each other. I felt my lip curl in disgust.

"Don't worry, sweetheart, he knows better than to play with that fire," a man said next to me. I looked up to see Quinn's dad smiling down at me.

"Oh, no, I just—"

He laughed and extended his hand. "Sam Bishop," he said. "You're Miranda Vaughn, right? You're Marie's niece and Rob's new financial expert."

I took his hand and smiled. "I don't think expert's the right word. But yes, that's me."

His warm smile was inviting and generous. "I'm very happy to meet you. Your aunt is a lovely lady."

I nodded. "She is. This is a wonderful party. Happy anniversary and congratulations on the centennial."

"Well thank you," Sam said, taking the two glasses of wine from the bar and handing them to me. "You'll have to come out on a day when you can enjoy it a little more, go for a ride."

"Yes, that's what Quinn said. But I haven't been on a horse in like 20 years," I said.

"Not a problem," Sam said, steering me through the crowd toward my table. "You'd be in good hands."

Again, that phrase brought to mind completely inappropriate images.

Rob and Aunt Marie spun by on the dance floor and gave Sam a wave as they passed our table. Sam shook hands with Sheldon and Bea then gave Sarah a hug.

"Where's Burton?" he asked, directing the question to Sarah.

She shrugged. "He said he'd be here, but late. I haven't seen him yet."

Sam took the chair next to mine and leaned in to talk over the din of the music and the crowd. "So, Miranda. Tell me about yourself. How did you come to work for Rob?"

I stuttered over my answer. It was never easy to tell someone my story, especially someone I just met.

"He was my lawyer. Last year. I was acquitted."

Sam smiled. "Good for you. Now that you mention it, I do seem to recall something about that. Financial dealings at your former employer's, right?"

I nodded, my face warm. I had done nothing wrong, but I never knew if people would believe me.

"And now you're helping others in your situation? That's very admirable," Sam said.

I hadn't thought of it that way but smiled at his warm words. "Thank you. But honestly, I just couldn't get a job anywhere else. Rob was nice enough to let me work for him."

He nodded. "That can be a problem. A lot of folks don't believe in giving people a second chance."

At his words, I remembered Quinn's past conviction and wondered if he was talking about me or his son.

Before I could agree with Sam, raised voices caught both of our attention. I looked behind me and saw Ana pushing her way through the crowd, heads swiveling in her wake as she headed for the path that led to the parking lot. Quinn stood at the corner of the dance floor, watching her through narrowed eyes.

"Excuse me, Miranda," Sam said, standing quickly. "It was so nice to talk to you. I hope we can catch up again soon."

I nodded, but he was gone before I could respond. I watched him walk toward Quinn, and the two men spoke briefly. Sam put a hand on Quinn's shoulder then walked away, and Quinn composed himself. Our eyes met, and his face softened a bit. He gave me a hint of a smile and walked toward me.

"I think I see Burton," Sarah said, leaping out of her chair as Quinn reached the table. "I'll be back in a little bit."

"How about that tour?" Quinn said, offering me his hand.

I took it, grateful to be leaving the crowd, which suddenly seemed to be watching Quinn with different, more suspicious, expressions. He was silent as he led me past the tents, toward the barn in the distance. Once away from the crowd, he dropped my hand, and we walked in silence along a worn dirt path in the grass.

"How do you know Ana Leonidis?" I asked.

He turned and looked at me. "You know Ana?"

I shook my head. "No, just know of her."

"We went to school together," he said. "And our fathers did some business together."

The path was lit only by the moonlight, and as we walked away from the crowd, the noise was muted. Quinn led us through a gate, and we walked toward the barn. A chill crept into the evening air, but my light wrap was enough to ward it off.

"Are you warm enough? Are you okay walking in those shoes?"

I looked down at my wedge sandals, chosen because I was sure that spike heels wouldn't get me far at a party on a ranch. "Yes, I should be fine."

He took my arm and slowed his pace, his body relaxing as we left the bustle of the party.

"So…Ana," I said, unsure how to approach the subject with him. "What was going on back there?"

He didn't say anything for a while, and I started to think I wasn't going to get an answer. Then he gave a low laugh.

"Some people never change," he said softly.

"How's that?"

He turned and looked at me, and even in the dark, his eyes bored into mine.

"It's not important," he said.

He paused at a fence, leaning against the wooden railing and staring out into the dark field. The warm spring air ruffled his hair. God, he was a good-looking man. This was the first time I'd seen him when he wasn't turning on the charm, and the more serious expression gave his features a more chiseled look. His jaw was tense, and that tension radiated through his body. He turned and caught me staring at him.

"Are you having a good time," he asked, and the rogue's grin returned, softening his features.

It was an act—I could tell. But one that was well practiced.

"I'm having a great time," I replied.

The smile I received in return was genuine, more relaxed.

"I'm glad to hear that," he said.

"How was your meeting with Davy?" I asked.

"It was good. I think he'll be fine." He turned and leaned back against the post, his eyes still on me. "How do you like working for Rob?"

"It's great. He's great. I love it." It was the truth. I never in a million years would have thought I'd be working for a criminal defense attorney. But then, I never thought I'd be on trial for fraud, either. Life is weird that way.

"Yeah, he is. What's going on with him and your aunt?"

I shrugged. "Well, I try not to pry. Unfortunately, I'm living in Aunt Marie's backyard, so I end up knowing things that I'd rather not know."

Quinn threw his head back and laughed, and the sound was sexy and joyful. "They seem like a good pair."

"Absolutely. But I'd rather not know the specifics."

"Yeah, I know," he said, giving me a wide grin. "Want to see the barn?"

"Isn't that it there?" I pointed to the large building in the distance.

"I meant the inside."

"Oh. Sure."

"You don't sound sure."

"Well, horses and all. You know."

He shook his head. "They're nice horses. I promise. I trained them all myself."

He took my hand and led me to another gate, then toward a door at the side of the building.

"Is that what you do—train horses?"

"I used to do that professionally, but I'm running the ranch now that Dad has decided to finally retire," he said.

Inside, he hit a light switch, and a row of lights in the center of the barn flickered then started to glow. Soft snorts and stamps sounded through the building.

Quinn went to a stall door a few from the end and reached in, making a clucking sound as he did. He got an answering snort, and a horse pushed its nose against his hand.

"Miranda, this is Pilar," he said, stroking the horse's nose. "Pilar is expecting her first baby any day now, so I've been keeping an eye on her."

I hung back, but he gave me an encouraging smile. "You can come closer. She's friendly."

I took a couple of steps toward him, and he reached out and took my hand, bringing it to Pilar's nose. I stroked the dark brown, felt-like nose, and Pilar's warm breath brushed across my hand. The horse's eyes were soft brown and fringed with long lashes.

"Oh, she's so pretty," I said.

Quinn laughed. "Yes, for a horse, she's quite pretty."

"I haven't spent much time around horses," I said. "They kind of intimidate me."

"Have you ridden before?"

"Once when I was ten," I said. "And frankly, it wasn't a great experience."

"What happened?"

"I was riding my friend's pony, and he went under a low branch and scraped me off his back," I said, frowning at the memory. "It knocked the wind out of me when I hit the branch and again when I hit the ground."

Quinn laughed. "Ponies are obnoxious by nature. Never understood why people made kids ride them."

"Maybe to prevent their babies from growing up to be cowboys," I suggested. "It worked for me."

"Well, my horses are well-trained, and I think you'll enjoy it," he said. "I have to be out of town next week, but why don't you come out the following week?"

I turned my attention from Pilar to Quinn, my heart quickening as I did. He gave me that smile again, and I wobbled on the edge of apprehension and exhilaration. Quinn was handsome, charming, smart. Why was I holding back? Was it because I knew his past?

No, that wasn't it. I didn't know the details of his conviction, only that it was drug-related, but that didn't bother me much. Rob and Sarah and Burton all trusted him, and that went a long way with me.

It was Jake. I was still hung up on the FBI agent who didn't feel the same as I did.

It was time to get over that.

"I'd like that," I said, my voice surprising even me. It was time to move on. Move forward. Move past my feelings for Jake.

"Don't touch that."

Burton's voice stopped my hand halfway to the high-tech stereo controls on the car's dash, the shiny touch screen with the blue backlighting still beckoning me to touch.

"Oh, come on, Burton," I protested. "I just want to change the station. You have like a million satellite channels. There must be something other than jazz to listen to."

"I have it set just the way I like it," he said. "And it took me a long time to get it that way."

He stared straight ahead and ignored my whining. With his freshly shaved head, warm brown skin, and a body that was basically a tall, lean wall of muscles, he drew as many admiring stares as his fancy car. But I knew under that cool exterior, he was a funny, kind, and generous friend. I'd jumped at the chance to hang out with Burton and take a road trip to San Jose.

But man, he was hell-bent on making sure it was all business. I sat back in the buttery leather passenger seat with a sigh. What fun was riding in Burton's start-of-the-art sports car when I couldn't play with the controls?

"Can I at least put the address into the GPS?"

"Already did."

I frowned and turned my head to watch the scenery zipping by.

"Oh! How about we stop for coffee?" I asked, seeing a familiar green logo ahead.

"We don't have time to stop and drink a cup of coffee if we want to make this appointment. And I had to hustle to get us in the door with Mark Ramsey, so we're not going to lose that opportunity."

"We can hit the drive-through," I suggested.

Burton didn't say anything in response but gave me a look that said there was no way in hell I'd be allowed to hold a paper cup filled with sixteen ounces of hot, delicious mocha while riding in his baby. The car flew by the exit.

"How did you get us into Hedgehog anyway?" I asked, reaching for my new black leather bag that was resting behind Burton's seat. The bag, a sleek and modern take on the messenger bag, had been a Christmas present from Aunt Marie and Rob, and I loved it. It was functional, holding my laptop and the folder of information I'd gathered for today's meeting, but was so stylish I felt like a real professional again when I carried it.

I withdrew the folder and flipped through the pages I'd printed out. There wasn't much to read. Mark Ramsey was brought on about five years ago as CEO of Hedgehog Ventures, a venture capital firm that helped develop high-tech toys. The company was private, so there wasn't much information available in the regular public record troves that Sarah would usually dive into. But she had managed to find a few dozen press releases and a couple of old news articles.

"I know Ramsey's security chief, Sean Keogh," Burton said.

"A friend of yours?"

Burton shook his head. "No. I met him about ten years ago when he was a federal agent. He quit suddenly, went into private security."

At the mention of federal agents, my thoughts raced back to Jake Barnes. Of course. "Why did he quit?"

"Officially, it was to take a better paying job."

Burton paused, and I waited for him to continue. A long minute passed, and finally I couldn't stand it. "And unofficially?" I prompted him.

He sighed. "There was some talk about some improprieties on the job."

"What kind of improprieties?"

Burton didn't answer right away. Then he gave me a glance.

"Not all agents are good guys," he said.

"You don't have to tell me that," I reminded him.

"Sometimes you find someone who does the job and takes pride in following the rules, not cutting corners," he said. "But not all of them. You can't trust someone just because he's got a badge."

"Burton, honestly. If anyone knows that, it's me."

"Some guys you think might be trouble because of their past, might actually be more honorable than their reputation would imply," he said.

I squinted at him. "Wait. What are we talking about?"

Burton gave me a sly smile. "You. And your choice in men."

Heat crept up my neck. "Not fair. We were talking about Sean Keogh. I don't want to talk about my choice in men. I haven't even chosen any men in a long time. A really long time."

He laughed. "I'm just saying that Q's a good man. You could do worse."

Now my face was on fire, and I had no idea how we'd gone from work talk to Burton's matchmaking.

"I have done worse, I'm sure," I muttered, thinking of my former fiancé, Dylan. So yeah, I didn't have a great track record with men. But I didn't consider Jake a bad choice. It was more like bad timing.

"You should get to know Q."

"That's what everyone keeps telling me," I said. "So, tell me about Sean Keogh. What was the rumor about his abrupt departure from federal service?"

Burton shrugged and frowned, but let me change the subject. "Nothing that was ever proven, or at least not made public," he said. "I actually hadn't talked to him in about three years, but he was able to help me out."

"Sounds like you owe him."

"Yeah." Burton sounded very unhappy about that. "He's not someone I want to owe."

"Why not?"

Burton shrugged and his eyes narrowed. "He doesn't have the best reputation."

"What does that mean? That he's incompetent? Or he cheats at cards?"

I studied Burton's profile, which gave little away. "Maybe the first. Definitely the second."

I raised an eyebrow and waited, but Burton didn't respond to my stare.
Damn
. It always worked when he did that to me. He'd lean forward and make eye contact, and before I knew what hit me, I'd be spilling my secrets.

With a sigh, I returned to the stack of press releases and scanned the little bit of information I'd found on Hedgehog. It had been founded by a man named Thomas Dillon who had been quite successful in funding a couple of computer game start-up companies. Most of his gambles paid off, and Dillon was a billionaire by the time he turned thirty-five. That's when he hired Mark Ramsey his old college buddy to take the reins of the venture capital firm. And then Dillon paid an obscene amount of money for a custom yacht and sailed off to explore the world.

"In half a mile, turn left onto Hedgehog Drive," the sultry voice of Burton's GPS announced. It wasn't the typical robotic voice, and I turned toward him, my eyes narrowing.

"Is that customized?"

He grinned. "Yeah. You like it?"

"It's kind of creepy. It sounds like you've got Kathleen Turner in your trunk."

Burton laughed and eased the car onto the long, tree-lined boulevard that led to a gatehouse. He touched the controls, and the tinted glass of the driver's side window silently slid down. A guard asked for both of our identifications, checked our appointment on a touch-screen tablet, and then placed a call from inside the booth. After a brief conversation that we couldn't hear, he passed Burton a placard to put in his window and raised the gate.

We rolled forward and Burton frowned. "Seems like a lot of security for a toy investor."

"High-tech companies have problems with corporate espionage." But as I spoke, I eyed the perimeter of the property, which was lined with a high chain-link fence and with razor wire at the top. It looked more like a prison than an investment firm. "Though that fence does seem excessive."

The car rounded a soft curve, and before us lay Hedgehog's headquarters, several large office buildings surrounding a manmade lake. It looked more like a college campus than an investment firm. The grass was green and manicured, and paths between the buildings wound past sculptures, small groves of trees, and benches overlooking the water. We parked in a lot for visitors near a fountain depicting a ten-foot tall hedgehog splashing playfully.

As we got out of the car, a man walked out of the main doors to a building to our right and headed toward us. Burton locked the car, and the man gave us a friendly wave.

"Mr. Worthington? Ms. Vaughn?"

We nodded as the man approached.

"I'm Jeffrey Addison, Mr. Ramsey's assistant. I'll be escorting you to his office," he said, his cheerful demeanor at odds with the lump under his suit jacket that barely concealed a shoulder holster. "Let's get you checked in at security first."

We followed Jeffrey Addison into the building, gave our IDs over to yet another guard, who photocopied them and gave us a waiver to sign.

"It's just to ensure confidentiality of any products you happen to view. We do a lot of testing on-site. Can't be too careful these days, you know," Jeffrey said, giving us a friendly wink. "Speaking of which, you'll need to leave your cell phones at the desk."

"I'll put them in my car," Burton said, his tone leaving no doubt that he didn't trust our electronics in the care of Hedgehog security.

I gave him my phone, and Burton walked back outside. Jeffrey moved slightly, leaning against the counter, and I realized it was so he could watch Burton through the window. His steady patter of small talk never ceased, but his eyes constantly scanned the room, and I doubted he missed anything. By the time Burton came back in through the automatic doors, I felt like I was being watched from a dozen angles. Even the company's logo, a cuddly cartoon hedgehog, seemed to eye us with suspicion.

Jeff handed us lanyards with our visitor passes attached and watched as we put them on. Then he unlocked a door to the side and held it open for us. "Mr. Ramsey's office is right this way."

We followed him down a long hall that ran the length of the building. On our left was a wall of windows with an expansive view of the park-like campus. On the right were occasional large windows that looked into rooms that appeared to be laboratories or classrooms. Young people gathered around desks, chatting, or worked in groups around wide tables. There was a fun energy about the work areas that was completely different from the cold scrutiny we'd received as a welcome. Everyone was dressed in faded jeans, T-shirts, and flannel. I felt conspicuously over-dressed in my gray wool pencil skirt and silk blouse.

We passed into another locked area and then took an elevator to the second floor. The doors slid open to reveal another long hall that looked over the lake below, but the windows on the opposite side now looked into a huge wide-open room, that was broken up only by the support columns. A group of young men, hardly out of their teens, huddled at one end. Suddenly, one of them broke away, running toward the other end of the office. One of his colleagues swung something and launched a bright orange ball. The running man caught it, and they all cheered.

Either this was the most laid-back investment firm ever, or they really did invent toys here.

Jeffrey led us to a set of glass double doors at the end of the hall then held them open for us. "Mr. Ramsey should be here in just a few minutes. Can I get you something to drink? A soda? Espresso? Tea? Bottled water?"

Burton and I declined, and Jeff waved toward a selection of beanbag chairs. "Make yourself comfortable."

I imagined myself trying to get out of a beanbag chair wearing a pencil skirt and decided to remain standing. Burton gave the chairs a skeptical glance and apparently deciding that such furniture was beneath him, stayed at my side. The door behind Jeffrey opened, and a tall, broad-shouldered man walked in, looked us over, and then pasted a smile on his scowling face.

"Burton, my man," he said, walking forward to shake hands with us.

Burton gave the man a smile and then introduced me. "Miranda, this is Sean Keogh."

Sean smiled, the emotion not reaching his deep-set eyes. He had the flat broad nose of a former boxer, or a man too slow to defend his face against a fast jab. His suit must have been customized to accommodate his bulky biceps and shoulders, a physique that looked as if it were honed in front of a mirror in a gym. Standing next to him, Burton looked positively lean, but in contrast to my coworker, the bigger man's muscles looked like they weren't functional for anything but picking up heavy things.

He walked to a small fridge and pulled out an energy drink, offering the same to me and Burton. We declined, and he popped open the can and took a swig before responding to Burton.

"Yeah, we were always on the other side of the cases from each other, but it was nice to hear from you. How have you been? What brings you to Hedgehog?"

"Oh, just a routine investigation for one of Mr. Fogg's potential new cases. I didn't know you'd landed so well, Sean. This looks like a nice place to work," Burton said, looking around the spacious office. A glass-topped desk sat in front of the windows, and I doubted that this was Mark Ramsey's real office. It didn't look like any work could be done here, or at least stored here. There were no shelves, no cabinets, and the only storage seemed to be the wine fridge and the vending machine next to it.

"It's a great gig," Sean said, grinning. "Give me a call if you ever decide to quit being a freelancer."

Burton smiled. "Thanks, I'll keep that in mind."

The door opened again, and Mark Ramsey walked in. He was wearing a tailored dress shirt, but no tie. I recognized him from the wedding portraits in the Leonidis model homes, and my instincts had been correct. Away from his stunning ex-wife, he was an attractive man. He gave us an easy smile and then shook our hands warmly.